Shattered Dreams
by I-piTy-Da-FoOl
Summary: This story is based on Ron Weasley. The world has nothing to offer him, yet Ron has everything to offer the world. Only in others eyes, it's not enough, while Ron considers them everything. Fixing the world, one mistake at the time, and hopefully winning the attention of Hermoine Granger, Ron explores the realm of his gifts and finds his purpose. Set in modern times, Age 16


_**Authors Note: So as you can see from my profile, I've very strictly only wrote the Hunger Games Fanfiction. It's also clear to see that I have not been very active. I plan on that changing very soon. Anyway, for all you Harry Potter fans, this is my first.  
Tell me what you think, what I can improve, ect.  
DISCLAIMER: Ya'll know I don't own any character names nor settings, only the wonderful J.K. Rolling can take credit.**_

 _January 5_ _th_ _, 2007._

I'm weak, and what's wrong with that?

Boy oh boy, I love it when I fall for that.

No thank you,

they call me after dark,

I don't want no part.

My habits, they hold me like a grudge,

I promise I won't budge.

 _Weak by AJR_

Snow coated the metals belonging to various objects, leaving no spot uncovered. It showed no favor to the ground however, as splotches of muddy, sloshy mud poked through the fluff that decorated the yard. There was no green, no color at all that reached the eye besides the sterile façade the snow held onto tightly. Everything else seemed dirty in comparison, almost as if simply existing was enough to be distasteful.

Winter, in all aspects, was the worst time of the year for Ron Weasley. He felt as if he was the eye sore in the middle of a land covered in snow. He was the one imperfection that people couldn't wait to get rid of. His unruly, red hair was a beacon for any one searching for a Weasley. His freckles seemed to create a map of hurtful words for people to use against him. His gangly limbs seemed to give him the permanent appearance of a klutz. Ron felt as if he could do no right in the world.

As Ron understood it, his family name seemed to leave a sour taste in most people's mouths. Ron, as a young boy, was oblivious for a short while to the distain. As most other children from birth to the age of ten, all Ron wanted to do was express his love for the world and all its inhabitants. He didn't throw tantrums. He sat quietly, listened, and watched as the world rejected him in return. He felt as if he was special in a way that he would forever have to keep secret. When his neighbors prized roses began wilting underneath the sweltering sun, Ron breathed life back into them.

Of course, that invited a stern scolding from both his mother and the woman married to Mr. Dursely. Petunia was her name.

In other ways, Ron was glad for his special, hidden ability. He could clean his room in an instant, which was always a good thing when it came to his mother. He could heal small cuts and bruises, which came in handy when his crush fell at school.

His crush.

Hermione Granger.

Also known as, the one person who wouldn't look his way.

While his awkward, clumsy self was unattractive to the female population, Hermione's clumsiness seemed to sway any male within the vicinity towards her. Including Ron.

But no, it wasn't her clumsiness. It was her intelligence that impressed him, her bravery that baffled him, and her caring side that made him yearn to be next to her side.

Besides his two trouble-making brothers, Ron's only light spot was wherever Hermione was.

Which brought Ron back to his earlier thoughts.

His brow furrowed in a concentrated effort as he watched the snow land almost hurriedly upon the ground. A feeling that was akin to static ran through his body at a low frequency as he concentrated upon the spots that the snow seemed intent upon avoiding. Slowly, the snow redirected its path, going from a diagonal descent to a vertical landing. The soiled spots filled in, becoming as clean and as white as the rest of the world seemed to be.

But Ron still felt the discontent stretching within his stomach.

He knew that the surface was clean and perfect. What lay beneath is what no one wanted to see.

A mess.

And, as he had done many times before, Ron curled up on his side and pressed his hand against his heart.

"I'm weak.." his throaty statement almost echoed around him. "What's wrong with me?"

The snow continued to fall, and the cold air whistled through the crack in his window. Shivers overtook his body and Ron continued to let them control his weak frame. Using his gift, he breathed warmth into the atmosphere. The shaking stopped but Ron still sat back up with a sigh. If he had been cold, he knows his family was too. The heater downstairs had been broken for four years. Time to see if Ron's ability had advanced beyond the meager things he had been attempting.

He stood with his back straight, and he envisioned his cluttered living room. Bringing the heater to the forefront of his mind, Ron whispered what sounded like nonsense to him, but felt right all the same.

"Reparo.." The words barely left his lips when the loud hum of the heater cut into the thick silence.

A small grin cracked his chapped lips as he heard his sister's exclamations of delight.

His eyes closed without his consent, a weary and depressing sleep overcoming him, as it had many times before.

 _ **AN: So Guys, I really wanted to get back into writing but as I wrote this, I had no idea what I wanted to do with it.**_

 _ **Ideas are appreciated, as are suggestions. I'll post another chapter when I figure out the best course I want to take with this, as this was just an introduction to what my story will be like.**_

 _ **PM me if you'd like, best wishes(:**_


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